


Mutual Nightmares

by CaffinatedArtist



Category: Hannibal (TV), Polar (2019)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Dark Will Graham, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Torture, one sided enemies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffinatedArtist/pseuds/CaffinatedArtist
Summary: A Polar/Hannibal crossover where Will takes Camille's role in the story (not that she isn't great). While it does follow the basic story of the movie, there will be huge changes.Will comes face to face with the man who killed his father, but he can't bring himself to kill Duncan, the man, the weapon aimed at his father.Duncan finds himself drawn to Will, but doesn't understand the significance of their meeting.Meanwhile, assassins are hunting the Black Kaiser, and using every dirty trick in the book.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is technically my second fic, however I lost the last one... So welcome to this fic! This chapter is to wet your pallet and see if you like it, that's why it's short. However, the rest will be much longer. 
> 
> Also, I am a college student, and this is just got fun, so if be chill. 
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy!
> 
> Twitter: @CaffeineArtist

Blood had come to define Duncan Vizla’s life. Whether at his hands or by another’s, it didn’t matter. He was practically cloaked in the smell of it. He had come to terms with the violence. But there were times when the horror of his mistakes caught up to him. Those times, when he was almost relaxed and content, his mind reminded him of why he was never allowed to forget.

  
Those times soaked in blood were such a stark contrast between where he was now. Standing in the aisle of a little convenience store in Triple Oak, Montana, Duncan appeared nothing like the dangerous assassin he had come to be. And he liked that. The locals accepted him as just another new comer, and they didn’t mind his quiet nature.  
As he perused the meager selection of dented instant cake mix, he heard a metallic crash up front. Lifting his eyes, he noticed the young man at the counter, who had been talking to the woman manning the store had knocked over the card standee. He was muttering curses and rapid-fire apologies as the woman kept telling him it was alright.   
Duncan turned back to choosing his cake. He was going to be alone on his birthday, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to celebrate, even a little. Sliding his glasses over his face, he squinted at the flavors, finally landing on chocolate. He turned to the counter, where it seems to have calmed down some.

  
“Are you sure no one came by to stock my wood pile? Or cut the wood?” The man implored, leaning on the counter, which Duncan now noticed was his neighbor across the way. He briefly thought back to that morning, where the man was trying to chop his fire wood while also keeping track of seven dogs. When he gave up in frustration, Duncan decided to jump in and help, but there was no point in mentioning it now.

  
“No, firewood is quite expensive. We don’t have that kind of money to be given away supplies. It’s not like firewood grows on trees!” The woman snorts at her own joke.

  
“Well, all I know is that when I left this morning, my wood pile was empty, and when I came back, it was full.” He was exasperated, the woman obviously not taking him seriously.

  
“It sounds like you have a magic woodpile. A golden goose would be better, but I guess we don’t get to pick and choose what super natural events we get to witness—Oh look, there’s your neighbor! Did you happen to see anything peculiar out by your place over the past couple of days? Perhaps some supernatural event of some sort or someone dumping a truck load of logs?” She drawled, both curious and friendly. Duncan wondered over to the counter to pay, already placing his purchase on the counter before she even finished.

  
“No,” he muttered, which was technically not a lie. No one had come to drop off logs, and there was no magic. Just one man in a cabin with a lot of free time who was looking out for a neighbor.

  
“This young man rents right up where you are.” The woman continued, as if she didn’t care for his answer. She was nice, but very chatty. “You can probably see his cabin from your place across the lake. Maybe not, I don’t know. Seems his woodpile got filled as if by magic.”

  
He glanced sideways, getting a better look at his neighbor. The man was young, probably in his late twenties, with a short beard and curly hair. Once the man looked at Duncan, it seemed something dawned on him. He wasn’t looking him in the eyes, but there was an intensity in that gaze that would break a lesser man. Duncan couldn’t figure out what he had done to offend, or if maybe he just realized Duncan must have been the one to cut his firewood.

  
Before either of them could say anything, the shop door clanged open, causing the man to startle and knock over all his progress. And just like before, he let out stream of curses and apologies, rushing to pick up the metal card rack and scattered cards. The woman dismisses him with kindness, telling him to leave it, and that she needs to fix the door, knowing that it’s not really the door. Nodding, the man hightails it out of the shop, not stopping for a goodbye.

  
The woman turned back to Duncan with a friendly smile, and noticed his birthday on his ID.

  
“Well well well, look who’s having himself a birthday! And baking a Betty Crocker, so much better when you make it yourself. You know, I got all sorts of fun party stuff. Streamers, balloons, and poppers, I got paper plates with Disney folk on ‘em and napkins!” She seemed more excited for Duncan’s birthday than himself, but he let her lead him to the party section.

  
He didn’t buy many party decorations, but he did pick up a small pack of balloons, a banner, and, yes, some paper plates with ‘Disney Folk’. Specifically, he was informed, from the movie Frozen. It made him chuckle to himself at the cold outside and the apt title.

  
On his way to his car, he stopped by the movie stand across the street to return his movie from the night before and pick up another for tonight. The street was quiet as he made his way back to his car, plans ambiguous and thinking of his skittish neighbor.

 

* * *

 

  
SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT. It was just a repeated track on Will Graham’s head as he ran to his car, not pausing for a breath until he was safely behind its locked doors. Once seated in the driver’s seat, he smacked his head on the steering wheel, breathing heavy from more than the run. Will shook with barely contained panic and fury, but also fear. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy, to find this man. AND AT THE CONVENIENCE STORE OF ALL PLACES!

  
Will started the car, needing to go home, surround himself in his only family, his pack. Sweat trickled down his neck as he took the desolate roads to the back to his cabin. The drive that was normally twenty minutes became fifteen with his anxiety induced lead foot.

  
As he pulled up to his house, Will could already hear the happy yips of his dogs from the inside, which warmed his heart and did wonders for his anxiety. Will darted across his yard, up onto his porch and through his door. He didn't even mind fighting through the wave of dogs vying for his attention. Instead, once the door was safely shut and locked, he collapsed on the ground, trying to pet all seven dogs at once.

  
Winston was front and center, licking Will's chin and trying to climb into his lap. Will stroked his fur with shaky hands, and buried his face in his shoulder, while the other dogs all laid down around him.

“He's here.” Will whispered into Winston's fur, voice shaking with malice. “The man who took my family from me.”  
Will lifted his head, gazing into Winston's eyes like he might understand.

  
“He didn't recognize me, he didn't… he doesn't look like I remember…” Will trailed off, fighting tears. His nightmares had twisted the image of the man into a sharp angled monster, someone who would never fit in in day to day life. But the man Will saw…

  
“He looked normal.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's next day is dramatic and he just wants a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you everyone who left comments on the last chapter. It was really awesome to read your thoughts. I updated some tags, so go back and make sure you still want to read this. But it wasn't super drastic and nothing incredibly damning. 
> 
> Also! I'm an artist as well guys, so hit me up on twitter if you wanna see some of that>>> @CaffeineArtist
> 
> Now onto Chapter 2!

Will woke the next morning to a dog nose being shoved in his face and splitting headache. With a groan, he rolled out of bed, all seven dogs eager to start the day while their human is barely standing. Will stumbled to the door and let them out, sighing in relief as they rushed through to relieve themselves and get some play out of their systems.

Collapsing in the nearest chair, a rickety kitchen chair, Will placed his head in his hands. He had spent the night drowning his memories in whiskey. He wanted to forget, he always did, but now the very man he couldn’t get out of his head was next door. There was no forgetting.

Standing, Will shuffled to his medicine cabinet. Admittedly it mostly contained Alcohol, but thankfully, is also had his trusty bottle of aspirin. He popped out two pills and dry swallowed them before moving to get a drink of water to fix his hangover.

Will pulled clothes he would consider presentable, something that parents of young children would find acceptable. He sighed in exhaustion. Years of teaching at the FBI, of teaching criminal profiling to aspiring agents, and here he was, a teacher’s assistant for the local elementary school. He didn’t mind teaching children per say, he just really hated dealing with the parents.

He grimaced at having to go in this afternoon before turning and filling bowls of homemade food for his hungry pack. Will whistled through his teeth to get their attention and pulled out of the way when they all came bowling in through the door. He chuckled softly as they scarfed down their portions.

The pack slowly dispersed after each bowl was licked clean, leaving Will to pick up after them. After they were taken care of, Will finally felt his stomach groan in hunger. His soft chuckle from before became slightly drier upon discovering he didn’t have anything for humans to eat.

Checking the time, 9:42, he decided that he would make a stop at the small diner in town before work. Will bundled up, hat, scarf, a coat, the whole nine yards, before facing the frigid cold Montana morning air. And in pure Graham fashion, he spent five minutes looking for keys that were already in his coat pocket. It took Buster coming up to him and biting his pocket for attention for Will to realize where they were. Buster was getting an extra treat that day, he decided.

Ten in the morning, nerves already frayed beyond repair, Will makes his way back into town, the familiar drive going by in a blink as he tried to remember what he was supposed to teach the kids today. He really wasn’t a good teacher, why did they keep hiring him for this?

The diner came into view, the place not overly busy as it was mid-morning.  Will pulled up, taking a moment to center himself with paced breathing and the thought of greasy breakfast and winter coffee. Finally, he stepped out of the car and into the restaurant; —

Where he instantly froze. There sitting at the counter, merry as you please, was his neighbor. Will contemplated just turning around and fleeing the scene again, but his pride stopped him as the owner already spotted him and was gesturing him over. Steeling himself, he strode up to the counter with false confidence and plopped down in the seat only one away from the man.

“Winter coffee?” The owner said, as she started getting the ingredients out before he even answered.

“Yes, please.” He replied gratefully. Will glanced sideways at the man beside him, who hadn’t even seemed to spare him a look since he sat down. “Can I have the usual breakfast as well?”

 The woman hummed and nodded.

“You got it, hon, anything else?” She was always nice, always understanding, so he tried to be just as polite.

“No, thanks.” He murmured while smiling. She placed his coffee in front of him then added a large splash of bourbon, just the way he likes it. He nodded in thanks.

Will pushed his coat off and sat on it, pausing as he felt eyes on him. He looked to the side and caught his neighbor as he was just shifting his eyes away. Will felt a spark of victory. He turned to his neighbor, wanting to figure him out. How did he look so god damn normal and be so cruel?

Will took a big swallow of the scalding coffee.

“It’s funny that we’re neighbors.” His voice shook, betraying his fear. He cleared his throat and turned away, wondering if the man will understand just why it was funny.

 

* * *

 

 

Duncan definitely did not get what was funny about them being neighbors. He sat there for a few seconds with his fork hovering in front of his face, thinking of what he should even say to that. Was it funny because they were both new in town? He decided to play along.

“Yes, that is funny.” He smiled before taking a bite of his eggs. His neighbor squinted at him, almost aggressive before turning back to his coffee. Weirdly, he felt the need to keep a conversation going. “You live in the house with the big porch.”

The young man seemed to freeze, like he was waiting to be struck. Duncan continued, watching him carefully.

“I live in the little cabin, just across the lake.” He tried to lower his voice, seem friendlier. Maybe he was more frightening than he thought.

“So funny…” The other man whispered, saying it like it was the least funny thing in the world. He was gazing into his cup, lost in his mind.

Duncan was about to ask him if he was alright; however, before he got the chance a man slapped a newspaper between them on the counter. The noise, which would have startled anyone, caused his neighbor to jump and slosh his coffee all over the counter. Just as with the store, he rushed to apologize and mixed curses in at every chance he got. The owner seemed to understand well enough and grabbed napkins for him.

Watching for a minute, not sure what to do, Duncan rose from his seat with his plate. He walked around the man with the newspaper and sat in the seat on the other side of his neighbor, where he began helping him clean.

“Name’s Duncan.” He grunted as he mopped up the coffee with shitty napkins. The young man looked up at him in shock like Duncan had three heads and just spoke in tongues. Once the coffee was all cleaned up, he plopped down to return to his breakfast like nothing had happened, the other still gaping at him.

“I’m Will.” He said in exasperation. The owner returned with his order and fresh coffee. Will nodded his thanks and said sorry for the coffee spill again, which was once again brushed off.

They ate in silence, Will glancing at Duncan every so often, which Duncan returned unashamedly. Seemingly fed up with the silence, Will set down his fork and turned to face Duncan, staring at his chin.

“I like it here.” He started, sounding almost aggressive, accusatory. Like there was something he expected Duncan to do or say. The older man couldn’t figure out where the aggression came.

“Me too.” Duncan murmured in response.

“It’s peaceful. It makes me peaceful.” Will was staring at the floor at this point, a sad lilt in his voice.

“Me too.” Was all he could think to respond with again. Will let out a shaky sigh and slapped some cash (way too much, by the looks of it) on the counter and rushed out of the diner. Duncan was left dazed and wondering if he really had done something to offend Will besides chop his firewood without permission.

“Don’t worry about Will,” The owner came back up to the counter to collect the dishes and the money, sighing at what was left. “He gets like that some time. I heard you were neighbors, and you seem okay. Would you mind taking Will his change?” She handed him eleven dollars and some change. “I will know if you didn’t, mister.” She said seriously. Duncan rolled the money in Will’s receipt and placed it in his wallet, pulling out his own money and paying for his meal.   

As he left, Duncan saw Will in his car, bent over the steering wheel. He debated going over and just giving him the money now and to check on him; however, Will looked like he needed to be alone. Pulling out a cigarette, Duncan walked back to his own car, smoke trailing behind him. His mind trailed back to his neighbor, Will. He was skittish and aggressive and obviously holding a grudge against Duncan. But something about him caused something to itch in the back of the older man’s brain. Like trying to recall a memory you don’t have.

He chewed the end of his cigarette, thinking about his neighbor all through his drive home. Maybe there was some way to find out what exactly made the man so angry with him, while also understanding why he seems so damn familiar…

 

* * *

 

 

Well, breakfast was a bust. Will drove his car away from the diner, hands gripping the wheel so tightly it hurt. He just wanted a normal morning, one where he didn’t embarrass himself or feel dumbfounded by his father’s murderer. Is that too much to ask?

Will arrived at the school too early to go in, so he elected to stay in his car and think. Which was desperately needed after this morning. He hadn’t expected to run into the murderer so soon. But why not? They live in the same town now, a small one at that. What did Will expect him to do, stay in his cabin all day? ( _Yes_ , a petty part of him wanted to say.)

 _Duncan_. Not the name Will would have chosen for him. It was too ordinary. But, he supposed, a murderer looks like anyone else, so why not have the same names?

The young man groaned and rubbed his head, wanting to laugh but only feeling like screaming. The man who sat next to him at the diner didn’t give off malice or violence or even smugness that he had come to associate with killers he empathized with. All he read from Duncan was concern and friendliness. Fuck, even Garret Jacob Hobbs, sensitive psychopath, gave off an air of righteousness and smugness as he and his daughter died on their kitchen floor. _See? See?_

Will tilted his head back and took a deep breath, trying to separate his head from everyone else’s. He didn’t need killers in his head right now, not Hobbs and not Duncan.

The man he knew killed his father and his neighbor, both one and the same, and yet… They appeared as two different people in Will’s mind. He couldn’t marry their images. And Will found himself intrigued by this. Just who was Duncan? Was he always like this? Was he just that remorseless in his kills that even Will couldn’t see a killer in his skin? Or was there something else?

He gave a humorless laugh and covered his eyes. Will shouldn’t even entertain the idea of getting to know Duncan. A murderer. A psychopath. A monster.

Before he could continue down this tangent, the school bell let out a loud shriek, signaling the change of a period, which meant it was time for Will to go in. He swiped his palm over his face, erasing the nervous sweat there.

“Time to face the day, Mr. Will.” He said to himself, using the name the kids called him. He climbed out of his car and slapped on his teacher persona. Time to face the day, indeed.

 

* * *

 

 

The day progressed with Will safely avoiding the darker parts of his mind. The children were wonderful distractions, asking more questions than expecting answers. Thankfully, his job was relatively simple; he just had help keep the kids in line and lead learning exercises. Today was no exception. He had to explain multiple times to some kids that while glue is technically not toxic, eating it was not good for them. Of course, many of them still ate it anyway and found out the hard way. Glue tastes bad and doesn’t settle in the stomach well. Others were curious about a turtle they found in the school yard and Will had to tell them that “no, it can’t be the new class pet,” and “no, you can’t keep it.”

By the end of the school day, he was exhausted. Home called to him, a safe harbor in this wild world. He arrived home, greeted at the door by his dogs and fought the urge to just collapse in bed right then. It wasn’t even dark, he reminded himself. He left the door open, despite the cold, so that his dogs could head outside and do their business.

God, he needed a drink. Or coffee. Fuck, both would do just fine right now. His brain was finally slowing down enough to catch back up with the events of this morning and he did not feel stable enough to deal with those thoughts. Will grabbed fistfuls of his hair and sat down at the kitchen table. The sting on his scalp brought his brain into focus, but it didn’t help the gnawing at the back of his skull.

Before he could spiral further in what was likely a panic attack, there was a knock at his door (or rather, the door frame as it was still open.) Will’s head shot up in surprise. Nobody visited him out here; no one had reason. He didn’t have anyone in town who would make the drive anyway. Except…

Will got up to check the door and sure enough, standing in his doorway with all seven dogs sniffing at his feet, was his neighbor Duncan. He was looking startled at being crowded by so many dogs, but he seemed uneasy at being on Will’s porch as well. Will clicked his tongue against his teeth, a message for them to back off. Six of them did, as they were used to the command, but Winston stayed. The dog looked up at the stranger and begged for attention. Will rolled his eyes.

“Winston.” He said sharply, clicking his tongue again. The dog lowered his head and slunk away, whining for attention.

“Sorry about that,” Will said, addressing Duncan, while looking at his chest. “Something you need? Cup of sugar?” He asked sarcastically, trying to hide his nerves. Duncan cleared his throat and pulled out a wad of money. Will bristled before he even opened his mouth.

“The woman at the diner asked me to deliver your change.” The older man said, holding out the money. Will stepped for and snatched the money out of his hands, face flushing in embarrassment.

“Is that all?” He asked with steel in his voice, feeling humiliated at having been exposed like this.

“Actually I…” Duncan looked up at Will’s face, and the younger man refused to meet his eyes. Duncan took a steadying breath; one Will recognized a mile away. “I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast with me again tomorrow?”

Will blinked in surprise, completely blindsided. The first thought he had was HELL NO. As was the second thought. The third thought was that this morning was not exactly planned. The fourth thought was finally more helpful, seeing this as an opportunity to study the pathology of Duncan. Maybe he would understand why the man had killed. Fun? Thrills? Sexual gratification? Will bulked at the thought and internally shook his head, clearing is head of such disturbing thoughts. A whole minute of silence passed between them.

“I guess?” Will said after finally making up his mind. He shoved the wadded-up bills in his pocket, thinking that there was more money then there should be…

Duncan nodded and turned, about to leave, before he stopped.

“Nine at the same place?” He asked, having forgot to solidify the plans.

“Yeah, okay,” Will said in a rush. He was impatient for the man to leave, already too strung out from earlier today. Duncan seemed to sense that and nodded once more, taking his leave. Winston watched him leave with a sad expression, obviously offended at having been denied his attention.

Once Duncan was completely off his property, Will closed the door and pressed his forehead to it. Why did his agree to that? Is he crazy? Is his encephalitis coming back or something? He smacked his head against the door once and took a deep breath. Okay, this could work. This could be used to his advantage. Duncan obviously doesn’t know who Will is, and that gives him an advantage over the other. Maybe he can get the man to open up about his murders. Confession is good for the soul, and every serial killer loves to boast about his “accomplishments”.

Maybe… If Will can get Duncan to spill his secrets, peel back his person suit that he must obviously be wearing, then it will be easier to move on.

It would make it easier to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter or this fic in general, why not leave a comment or kudo? Also, let me know if there's a typo, that happens sometimes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day just proves luck is not on Will's side. But maybe he can salvage it a bit with breakfast and what is likely the most awkward conversation he's ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the sweet comments and the kudos!! I know my posting is sporadic, so thanks for sticking with me. I am a college student after all, so school work has to come before all this glorious self-indulgence. 
> 
> If you want to see my art or get updates on stuff, you can follow me on twitter: @/caffeineartist

_Chapter 3_

               

The diner was once again empty while Duncan sat there nervously tapping the table of the booth he sat at. He had arrived thirty minutes early and the man was starting to wonder if the diner was ever honestly busy. Despite the lack of business, the air smelled of freshly made bacon and coffee, which caused his mouth to water.

The owner recognized him from the day before and waltzed over, asking about Will. He assured her that he had indeed returned the man’s money.

“Thanks, hon.” She said, relieved. “That boy would lose his head if it wasn’t attached, I swear.”

The owner, who he has now been informed is named Carol, walked off after being called over to the kitchen and Duncan was left to his own devices. Time seemed to pass at a glacial pace and Duncan found himself growing increasing more anxious by the minute.

It was now 9:35, and Duncan was beginning to think he might have been stood up when Will enter the diner in a flurry of motion. The door clanged open and the man rushed in, heaving like he had run a mile to get here. His glasses were askew on his flushed face, clothes soaked from what was likely snow.

“Fuck, I’m sorry I’m late.” Will said as he slid into the booth, disheveled and glasses foggy. He slid his winter cap off his head and ran his hand through his unruly curls, which were damp with sweat. Maybe he had run a mile. “My car broke down on the way here.”

Duncan kept silent and observed the man across from him. Someone who had likely trekked through the cold to still make their meeting was not a man to be taken lightly. He gave Will a moment to catch his breath and calm down, even offering him a napkin to wipe the sweat that was now dripping from his hair.

“Do you need to call a tow truck?” Duncan asked once Will was settled. The man waved his hand, dismissing it.

“I will after work, they can tow it back to my house.” Will shrugged and waved at Carol, who had just noticed he had walked in.

“Mechanic?” The older man asked, a bit skeptical. To which Will snorted.

“I’d rather fix it myself, thanks. Don’t wanna be screwed over some asshole looking to swindle desperate people.” Will rolled up his sleeves as he said this, and it revealed his hands were covered in grease and grime. He had obviously tried to fix his car on the road first. Duncan nodded, understanding. He also preferred to fix his truck himself.

Carol chose that moment to come up and greet them, or rather mostly Will.

“Good morning, sweetheart! Lookin’ a little worse for wear there…” She said before glancing at his hands. Grimacing, Carol pointed to the bathroom in back dramatically. “Will, go wash your hands, you’re getting my table dirty.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Will said with a laugh before sliding out of the booth and shambling off towards the bathroom. Carol chuckled as Will left and turned back to Duncan.

“I know what he wants, what can I get for you?” She asked, not bothering to pull out a note pad. Duncan ordered the same as yesterday, realizing he was also going to be a regular here.

Will came back a few minutes later much more put together and much cleaner. He had obviously tried to wipe the sweat away while he was in there and his hair was much neater. Once he slid back into the booth, he turned to face Duncan.

“So, any particular reason for this meet up? Or just feeling neighborly?” Will said, cheekily. There was a bite to his tone, the unknown hatred rearing its ugly head. Duncan felt it wasn’t necessary to address, so he just raised his eyebrows at the man.

Once more, Carol returned to their table brandishing plates of food and coffee.

“Here's ya'll’s food. And here's your Winter Coffee as usual, Will.” She said as she set the plate down. When she set Will's cup down, she pulled out a bottle of bourbon from her apron and poured a decent sized shot into the mug.

“Let me know if there's anything else I can get ya.” Carol winked at Will and left them to eat. Duncan picked up his fork and dug in, not waiting for his companion.

 

* * *

 

 

Will barely registered the steaming food in front of him. His mind was in overdrive, telling him to run from this man. This man who gave off no violent or murderous vibes, who didn’t talk much or even react to much in general. Will couldn’t get a good read on him, and it was both terrifying and fascinating.

He picked up his coffee, bourbon smell mixing with the sweetness of the syrup, and took a sip. The warmth was calming and let him think for a moment. Will needed a way to get Duncan to open up, maybe even trust him. Playing dumb usually worked, right?

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Will asked innocently, though the answer was obvious. The man’s accent was thick and something vaguely European, definitely not something born and bred in rural Montana. He pushed his glasses back up, trying to keep his eyes on Duncan’s shoulder.

“No,” Duncan mumbled between bites of his food. His eyes were downcast, body language passive and nonthreatening. He could be just the old man next door, if Will didn’t know any better.

“Like, Europe or something?” Will pushed, the other just making an affirming sound around a full mouth. God dammit, fine, a different direction then. If Duncan didn’t like dumb, then he’ll kick it up a notch.

“You don’t have the same look as people around here.” He said, meaning every word. Duncan finally glanced up, seeming curious but maybe also… weary? Will felt the tinge of anxiety emanating from the older man.

“What’s that?” Duncan asked, tone neutral as his eyes returned to examining his food. Will had hooked him, so he let his observations flow, seeing if the other would correct him.

“Resigned to a slow death. No future, no money, no work…” Will trailed off, gesturing with his fork before taking a bite of his eggs.

“I’m not working anymore. I’m retired.” Duncan corrected in a huff, almost seemingly disappointed by the fact. Now Will was the one interested.

“What was your job?” Will said, leaning forward in anticipation.

The other man hesitated, which caused Will to look up and meet his eyes for the first-time since meeting. It was… unnerving, like staring into an abyss of emotions. Duncan’s eyes were a some weird shade of blue, but Will barely saw the color. All he saw were the ghosts lurking there, and Will couldn’t look away.

“I was in the funeral business.” He replied, almost too casually. His body was tense, waiting for something. Will almost immediately recognized this as a lie in his eyes. Why was Duncan lying? What could he be hiding…?

“Where?” Will tried not to sound skeptical. It seemed to work as the older man paused to think of his next lie, thoughts swarming in his eyes. Will hated this, seeing so much, but it was so hard to look away.

“Different places. Mostly overseas.” Duncan mumbled into is coffee, breaking the eye contact. Will fought the urge to laugh but did give a twitchy smile and a sigh of relief. Of all the things Duncan could have said, and Will now knows for sure that he’s not only lying, but that he’s also a terrible liar. He didn’t need to see into the other’s eyes any more to know the truth, and he was practically shaking with the intensity of it anyway. Will lowered his eyes to his meal but kept an even tone.

“A… traveling funeral business?” This time Will did not hold back his skepticism. Let the old man know Will had caught him in such an obvious lie. Duncan froze and rubbed his forehead nervously.

“Yeah, well…” he murmured, pushing his empty plate away from him. The younger man was surprised to see it empty already, to be honest. “Well, people die traveling in foreign countries, Americans, I go over and I take care of it.”

Will nodded, not believing that for a second. Duncan was obviously following the rules ‘half-truths make lies more believable’, otherwise why would he lie  about such a ridiculous job? One that Will knew didn’t exist.

He sat in silence, taking in this new information while he finished his breakfast. Death and traveling… That seemed to be the route of Duncan’s lies, the truth behind it. But what kind of job—

It hit Will then, knocking the air out of him. _He’s a hitman_. He fought to keep his breathing even. His breakfast sat on the table now forgotten and growing cold. Eyes on the table, he shifted nervously in his seat and prepared to continue this very normal conversation. The diner around them might as well not exist as it faded from his view, keeping his attention solely on Duncan.

“How…How many countries have you visited?” Will asked, cursing the voice crack at the beginning. Thankfully, mercifully, Duncan ignored it.

“Ninety-nine.” The older man said flatly, glancing up at Will. Which… honestly shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did. It was impressive. Especially to someone who had never left the country.

“Most people can’t even name ninety-nine countries.” Will chuckled, finding it easier to breathe. The hitman, Duncan, obviously wasn’t going to kill him. Otherwise he would have done it by now. Not that the older man recognized Will anyway, but it still gave him that shadow of paranoia in his head.

“Andorra, Albania, Austria, Australia, Antiqua, Angola, Algeria, Afghanistan, Argentina, Azerbaijan…” Duncan paused with a coy smile on his face, obviously enjoying showing off, but trying to hide it. “And that was just the A’s, so…”

“Do you speak any other languages?” Will questioned, though the probability was high. The assassin probably knew at least one more, right?

“Eight.” Duncan didn’t elaborate on which ones. Likely thinking it not important. Something stirred in Will’s stomach, a terrible, but fun impulse. Something that could be good for everyone.

“You should help me teach the kids today.” Will started, which caused Duncan’s eyes to grow big in surprise. “These kids don’t know much about the world beyond this town, and I’m not much help. So, a teacher that could tell them about what’s out there would do them good… Would you do it?

Duncan paused, still in shock. He seemed almost scared to answer, like he was on the knife’s edge of either answer.

“No,” He finally whispered out.

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Duncan feared he had disappointed Will. Which might as well have been confirmed when the man’s mouth turned down at the corners.

“And why not?” Will said indignantly, a slight pout appearing on his bottom lip.

“I’m not good with kids.” He murmured in return, which just earned him a huff.

“Nor am I, but it’s only one class, come on.” The other urged, leaning forward, glasses slipping down his nose. Duncan remained silent, unsure and uneasy, before Will continued. “Besides, I may need a ride, and why not show up with me?”

Duncan couldn’t really argue. He truly was terrible with kids, but if Will was going to be so adamant and needed his help on top of it…

“Ok…” He sighed. “What would I do?”

“Tell them about your job, Mister Traveling Funeral Business.” Oh, Will definitely didn’t believe him, did he? That joking tone and skepticism from earlier keyed Duncan in, that he was indeed, caught in a lie. But it was a lie he had to stick to now. But what could he show a class full of kids?

“Alright.” He replied hesitantly, trying to formulate a plan. What do kids like to hear about nowadays? Violence? Their video games were sure showing it… not that it was realistic. Would they want to know about murder? Is that allowed?

“Well, ‘assistant teacher to the assistant teacher’, lets get you a lesson plan. And a guest sticker.” Will waved Carol over and pulled out his wallet, to which Duncan raised his hand. Money wasn’t something he was lacking on, he would rather pay for both of their breakfasts. Pulling out his own wallet, he grabbed two twenty-dollar bills, knowing that it was way more than the meal, and handed them to Carol.

“Keep the rest, please.” Duncan said and slid out of the booth as both people gaped at him, one slightly peeved, the other incredibly shocked. Will was darting out of the booth after Duncan before the diner door shut behind him.

Duncan stood outside waiting for the man, cigarette half way to his lips before Will was standing next to him, giving off waves of irritation.

“What the hell was that?” Will growled. “Do you think I’m not capable of taking care of myself for something? First you chop my firewood, then you pay for my food, I’m not some maiden to save.”

Duncan paused in lighting his cigarette, obviously not understanding where the anger was coming from. Taking a drag, he started off towards his car.

“Most people like being taken care of.” Duncan grumbled as Will caught up.

“I’m not most people.” Will huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The older man glanced down at the man and blew smoke away from his face.

“I’m sorry, then. Won’t do it again.” He said, trying to calm the frazzled man.

“Good.” Will replied as they arrived at Duncan’s car. Duncan unlocked the doors and let the man sit shotgun, before he stubbed his cigarette out and threw it in the snow.

“Mind if we stop at my place before uh… school?”

 

* * *

 

 

Will tapped impatiently on the windowsill of the truck while he waited for Duncan to return from his cabin. The man had offered to let Will inside, like a “gentleman”, but he declined. What could the other possibly need to grab for this impromptu lesson that would take longer than a few minutes?

The answer was apparently a lot of dangerous and highly un-child-friendly weapons and pictures that Duncan seemed to have just lying around. Will had to keep reminding himself that this man was an assassin, and the weapons seemed further proof. However, the older man seemed genuinely excited about teaching kids about them, and obviously didn’t understand how inappropriate it was for kids, that Will just couldn’t tell him no. Instead, he just smiled and went over the lesson with him, actually interested and able to provide feedback on the subject.

“So, the uh… knife, what do you plan on doing with it?” Will asked while looking through the (surprisingly well organized) brief case.

“Explain the use and demonstrate how it’s used?” Duncan replied, unsure if that was the right answer. His hands were tense on the steering wheel and he occasionally glanced over at Will, like he was worried the brief case would be tossed out the window. Or that Will would hurt himself, most likely.     “This is used for slicing right?” Will took the knife out and studied the blade. Serial killers often didn’t use such weapons, but he distinctly remembers one who took sick pleasure in slicing the tendons of the legs of his victims before torture with one. It was gruesome, the knife causing the monster to slowly crawl back into the ex-profiler’s thoughts. He replaced the knife and snapped the case closed, dispelling the memories.

“Uh, right. Arterial weapon.” Duncan seemed stunned. Which Will guessed was an appropriate reaction. If one didn’t really know Will, why would they think this was something he was knowledgeable in?        

“Don’t go testing this on a bunch of kids, please. I don’t need an angry parent telling me Jr went home with a nasty cut.” Will joked, his dark humor shining through. The other huffed a laugh and rubbed his mustache. After a brief pause, the younger man had another terrible idea. “I’ll be your demonstration dummy, okay? Just don’t murder me in front of the class.”

Duncan jerked the car a little, surprised and slightly in awe. It jostled them, Will trying to contain the brief case of lethal weapons and stay up right, the other pulling the car steady. Both seemed thankful there wasn’t another car on this road.

“Jesus, fuck, Duncan, what the hell?” Will swore, slightly hostile.

“Sorry… Sorry.” The older man breathed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I can’t seem to predict you.”

“Thank you?” Was that a compliment? Or a complaint? Jesus, this man was seriously going to give him a heart attack. The other only nodded and continued driving in silence. Which was fine by Will, he was stressed as it was.

They arrived at the school having experienced no more problems besides the bone crushing awkward silence. It wasn’t that hard to get a visitor’s badge for Duncan, really. The school was small, and they knew Will. Why would Will steer them wrong?

He pulled the older man into the second-grade class, which was out for lunch. It was a simple classroom, small and colorful. Weirdly enough, or perhaps not weird at all, there was a banner about God strung across the ceiling, which Will found distasteful at first but not doesn’t really even think about. Duncan seemed a little surprised that it’s there as well but doesn’t comment. Instead, Will ushered him towards the teacher for introductions.

The teacher was an older, conservative woman who didn’t allow trouble makers, but was otherwise extremely kind. Names were exchanged, along with reasons for the visit, which didn’t seem to bother the woman. But it was always good to grovel a little in these situations. Especially with the lesson content she most certainly won’t ask about.

“I know it’s last minute, ma’am, but I thought that it would be a great opportunity for the children.” Will’s voice was dripping in honey, playing the role of teacher assistant. “He can take my teaching spot, of course.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, dear. It sounds like a wonderful idea to teach the children about the world. Mr. Vizla, was it? Mr. Graham teaches the children after their post-lunch recess, that will be the perfect time for your lesson.” She said, Montana accent strong in her voice.

“Thank you.” Duncan murmured, seemingly shy. It was a bit cute, considering the man was a deadly assassin and this was a class of elementary kids, but Will would never admit it out loud.

They walked away to set up for the other’s lesson as the teacher went to fetch the kids from the playground. Will pulled an easel over and a chair for Duncan and a small table for the brief case.

“All set?” Will asked, dusting his hands off and placing them on his hips. Duncan didn’t get to answer before the kids started to file in and sit in their carpet spots.

Show time.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Maybe like a kudo or even a comment!


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